


Yet We Can Make Him Run

by mizzsy



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mortality, gods and mortals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzsy/pseuds/mizzsy
Summary: It's a tragic thing,to love something doomed to die.
Relationships: Bim Trimmer/Google, Doctor Iplier/The Host, Mark Fischbach/Mark Fischbach, Wilford Warfstache/Dark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Yet We Can Make Him Run

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to describe Wilford as mortal.

Mortals didn’t have the sheer disregard for physics that Wilford did, certainly. Nor did they walk between time and space like passing through the scenes of a book. And Wilford definitely had the same care for human life that most immortals seemed to as he brandished his gun at near anyone who came across his path.

Yet Dark knew, was painfully aware of the fact, that Wilford held a very human heart in his chest. One that would bleed out if a distraction came at the wrong time. It had survived so far; through indeterminable years and heartbreaks and accidents, but how long could it truly last?

Dark’s hadn’t- the poor DA’s heart long grown stagnant by the time he opened his eyes and found he had no use for it anymore. Dark could bleed and break and age and he would still keep walking this earth until it had killed itself a hundred times over.

But he wouldn’t without Will.

It was only a few tricks- a push on reality here, and a touch of magic through Wilford’s veins-and the pink haired man hardly even noticed the change. Any rush through his body that might have been missed was replaced with the hum of madness that had fuelled him for so long. The weakening of his joints froze, and he could put it down to good exercise and an exorbitant energy. If he ever noticed a flicker of red and blue in his eyes, he never said a word as he slipped into Dark’s bed at night, only full of life that would now stretch forever and words of love that had caused it to happen.

No, Wilford wasn’t a mortal man anymore, Dark had ensured it.

*

Guilt was something The Host was more than used to.

He’d been born into it-in the dark and pain and that heavy drowning in his chest as he came from the body The Author used to be. Images of frightened faces and emptied lives filled his thoughts, flooded with unfamiliar emotion until he had screamed his new throat hoarse over the span of hours.

The dark and the pain faded quick enough- only a matter of a wish for a God, even when in a vessel. But the guilt, The Host chose to hang on to the guilt, the first human thing he had felt and the only thing he could bare to let in amongst the litany of things that surrounded these mortals everyday.

Then Edward happened.

Edward with his brittle edges and sharp unforgiving humour and blunt manner somehow became the thing to open The Host’s new heart from where it had lain unneeded. The human things that had left aside for his mission became as sacred as worship as The Host began to find his evenings and nights occupied by this ordinary man. For a while, his being was filled with love-a lighter, fuller thing that let his essence flow instead of fighting against the new world.

And oh, Edward’s kisses were so much better than any tributes The Host had ever received in all his millenia.

He was so filled by Edward’s love he didn’t notice at first-that the golden glow that usually surrounded Edward in his Eye had begun the burn along the edge, leaving a growing hole of scorched light that scarred the otherwise perfect aura.

It wasn’t Edward’s fault he was loved by a monster, but that hadn’t prevented The Host’s mark appearing on his soul nonetheless.

Guilt made it’s return swiftly after the first glimpse of it, growing stronger when every day showed how The Host’s influence caused Edward’s soul to become blacker. No distance or spells could reverse it; the moment the universe first recognised Edward as The Host’s sealed the dear doctor’s fate. And nothing could save him from the emptiness The Host’s affections had doomed Edward’s afterlife to become.

He couldn’t bare to look at Edward for days after;the disarming smile only sinking The Host further down to his despairing lows that had dominated the early days of his human life. Each personal touch a reminder that it was The Host’s embrace that had damned Edward to an eternity of cold and silence.

It had taken a simple, often repeated declaration to finally pull The Host free, murmured against the back of his neck as Edward was half asleep in their bed.

I Love You.

If the universe had decided Edward’s soul belonged to The Host above Heaven or Hell, then The Host would make full use of that claim.

It hadn’t even taken a ritual, Edward’s soul already given so willingly that all it had taken was an acknowledgement from the God in return. And in the span of moments, from Edward finishing his sip of coffee to taking the next, it was done.

Edward would die one day, of that The Host had no intention of changing. But when he did, his soul would not slip between the worlds to another plane. Instead, it would come home to The Host, who would take far better care of the precious thing than any other deity ever could.

And once he did, there were no limits to where they could go, together. The Host couldn’t wait.

*

Google would live forever, everyone in the manor knew that.

Instead of a soft flesh and a wearing heart, he was made of steel and wires that would keep running for centuries without change ever touching his perfectly cast face. It was a wonder then, that a being so freshly introduced to human emotions, would invest their love in something so vulnerable like Bim. Maybe the android thought he could protect him, the other inhabitants mused sometimes. That his strength could shield Bim’s many weaknesses from the danger that inevitably followed all egos. Yet surely the android knew, smart as he was, that there was nothing he could do from time taking Bim away from him, and leaving the android alone in a dark and solitary future?

How oddly illogical of him, they’d say, to love something doomed to die.

And how stupid of them, Bim knew, that they thought he ever needed Google to protect him.

It’s what Bim had meant for since he first slipped between the worlds to take a closer peek at the humans; for those around him to look and only see Bim Trimmer, the airheaded and self-obsessed game show host. Not a threat. Not a danger. And certainly not possibly a being older than even The Host passing another millenia or two on Earth.

He’d never seen humans as more than characters populating his games, but then Google was not quite human. Probably his own self-destructive tendencies then, that drew him to the artificial being with such curiosity that he fell quite accidentally until Google was the one thing he could bare to care about.

He hadn’t made the same mistake as Dark or The Host , given that his affections were not invested in something as short lived as a human. No, he’d made a far worse choice. For even though Google’s body was stronger, even it couldn’t last forever. Eventually rust would take hold somewhere to important, or his processor would not be able to contain the updates needed to keep his brilliant mind going, and he too would go quiet. The body would fall still forever and the personality eventually forgotten by everyone who had known it, except Bim.

And that would be it for Google, whose metal body was as empty as any machine- there was no soul within for Bim to keep or chase, no flicker of a mortal life that would pass to something new. Google would shut down as still as any inanimate object, and Bim would be left far more alone than he had been before. 

Bim let the minutes count down in his mind as coldly as he could, reminding himself he couldn’t tell Google of the displaced wire near his core or the leaking valve in his head without arousing suspicion. They were minor things, he told himself as he instead spent the days finding ways to pull that reluctant smile from Google, and he had time yet, centuries perhaps.

Enough time even, to create a soul of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this? Please consider leaving a comment, or follow me on tumblr at adequately-fed-artist to request a fic, or support me on Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/mizzsy


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